Random Transformer One-Shots
by R3M1X 7H3 H0U53
Summary: I decided to make a collection of one-shots so that way I can get the plot bunnies away and focus on my main stories. There may be some triggering themes, so if you don't like that, then why are you here?
1. For Erin

**Summary: Jackson Garrett (AKA Soundwave) is a not-so-typical boy living an odd life. He constantly starves himself, scars himself with his nails, and even refuses to speak because he loves his twin sister that much. No one knows why he would do the things he does just because he loves his sister. (Not incest.)**

* * *

Jackson "Soundwave" Garrett pushed his plate away. He was never really hungry anymore. As he looked up from his lap, he noticed his sister Erin "Shadow" looking at his plate. Since Jackson always tried to be the perfect brother, he handed the plate to her.

"Thank you," Erin said, "but you didn't have to do that."

Jackson simply waved his hand and stared at the table. He knew that not eating for long periods of time can have a dangerous effect on the human body, but there were other countries in the world who's population was constantly starving. At least he had a roof over his head, food available to him, clean water, clothing, education, etc.

0o0o0o0o

Later that night, Jackson took off his beloved navy blue and black jacket. He examined himself in the mirror. You could see his ribs underneath the dark blue turtle neck that he always wore. He decided to take off the turtle neck as well. Once his torso was rid of the fabric, Jackson tossed the shirt onto his bed.

As he looked at his arms, Jackson saw the thin and jagged scars from the nights he spent clawing at his skin. Anyone that saw his arms would think he was a cutter, but he wasn't. He only did to himself what he thought would be best to make sure Erin had the perfect brother. He never wanted to lose his sister, because she was what mattered most to him. So, he kept silent.

A brother who is seen and not heard and leaves his sibling alone is the perfect brother. At least, that's what Jackson told himself. He never concerned himself with what others said about him, as long as they stayed away from Erin.

Once, a long time ago, there was this one kid who always bullied the other kids on their street. Well, one day the boy decided to start picking on Jackson and Erin. Never once did Jackson react to the verbal abuse he went through, because it didn't bother him. However, when Jackson was finally around to hear the kid pick on Erin, he lost it. He flung himself onto the boy and begun to beat the living spark out of him. Had Erin not pulled Jackson off, he would've probably killed the boy.

Hence, no one ever picked on Erin, because Jackson would go after them.

But that was far too long ago, and he was starting to lose his strength. Jackson's parents sent him to a variety of counselers, psychiatrists, and even a mental hospital once; unfortunately, their efforts were in vain. Because whenever he would be questioned with why he did the things he did to himself, or rarely spoke would be with 2 words.

"For Erin."


	2. The Visor

Soundwave never understood why everyone wondered why he had the mask. He was just simply puzzled by it. As far as Soundwave could remember, he always had it... Unless those dreams meant something.

~Flashback~

Soundwave (then called "Sonus") stood confidently by the entrance to the arena. He had been told by many other mechs and femmes alike that fighting in the arena would end in death. Little did they know that he had weapons other than his claws.

Sonus crossed the slightly stained glass floor of the gladiatorial stage to meet his opponent. Because he was a rookie, Sonus was fighting a lower-ranked but still powerful Bombcrusher.

"Look, rookie, I don't wanna hurt you, so I'll go easy on ya. Okay?" Bombcrusher asked in a staticky voice.

"Alright," Sonus nodded.

"Opponents, get ready, fight!" the announcer's voice yelled from the comm. speaker.

o0o0o0o0

After ten megacycles of battling, the fight was about to close. Bombcrusher was gaining an advance, but Sonus was holding his ground. The crowd was aware of the fact that fights could go on for megacycles, but this was a record. None of the fighters could go for more than two before needing a break.

"I must admit, rookie, you fight well," Bombcrusher complimented as she drew out her longsword.

"You're not bad yourself," Sonus added as he charged his tentacles.

Bombcrusher nodded as she ran toward Sonus with her sword in front of her. Unfortunately, there was a small hole in the glass which caused Bombcrusher to trip and the sword to go straight through Sonus' optic.

Sonus felt light-headed all of the sudden and began to fall backwards. He felt no pain, but was wondering what was happening. Sonus put a trembling servo up to his optic and prodded at the broken glass and cut circuitry. When he pulled his servo away, it was coated with sticky, light blue energon.

"Oh my Primus, will he be alright?" a voice cut through the dizziness.

"I'm not sure," another voice said. "Judging from the colour his wound is turning, he'll be blind in that optic forever."

"Wh-whats..." Sonus tried to mumble out before slipping into the cold embrace of unconsciousness.

~End Flashback~

"See to it that you repair Soundwave's broken visor, Knockout."


	3. Inkblood's Pain

Pain. That's all these children have ever known. Subjected to torture and misery. It seems awful to the Outside, but it's all that the children know. Wake up, eat, be tortured, get sent back to their cell, and then the true torture begins.

0o0o0o0o

A sharp bit of metal streaks across the sensitive protoform. Energon leaks out of the damaged lines and spills onto the filthy floor of the cell. A heavy sigh escapes the small female as she watches the life blood drip onto the ground.

"You still do that to yourself?" a light voice asks from across the room. This was and older male who shared the same cell with the her. Long before the female arrived, he stopped cutting his protoform with sharp bits of metal and began to doing... other... methods of self-harm.

"Yes. I find it quite intriguing to slit the energon lines and then make art out of the spilled fluid. It helps with thinking about the Outside," the female then begins to make a painting using her spilled energon on the dark wall of the cell.

The male gives off a sad laugh before staring at the bleeding wound. "What is leaking out of your arm?"

As she stops her "art", the female notices energon is no longer leaking out of the wound. Instead, a runny black fluid begins streaming down the appendage and dripping onto the floor. "I-I don't know," she whispers.

"What's going on here?" one of the Vehicon guards questions.

"I cut myself, and then this began leaking out of my arm." The female holds out a palmful of the back liquid through the bars of the cell door.

"I'll need to take you Lord Megatron. This is beyond scientific knowledge, and he might know about it," the guard says before opening the door and pulling the female out. "Who knows, maybe he'll take a particular 'interest' in you," the guard adds smugly.

The female gulped. She had never met the Lord, and didn't intend to. As far as she knew, the Lord was an evil myth used to frighten the torture subjects into behaving. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I'll tell you," he begins before whispering something to the female.

The female's eyes widen to the point to where they almost pop out of her head. "N-no! I won't let him!"

"You have to comply, or else even worse things will happen," the guard looks down towards the steel floor of the prison ship. "I'd tell you, but you'd go into shock."

"Please, tell me!"

"It's too late, we've arrived."

0o0o0o0o

**13 Years Later...**

"Inkblood! Report!" Lord Megatron orders gruffly.

"Y-yes. Um, we had 3 deaths during the torturing process today, and 8 children willing to join our forces," the female, now known as Inkblood, reports.

The Lord smirks and chuckles darkly. "Is there anything else?"

"No, my Lord."

"Very good. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, my Lord," Inkblood says before bowing.

Inkblood leans against the smooth wall of her quarters. Being the head of the Chamber was a strenuous job, and a nostalgic reminder in a macabre way. It often reminded her of the nights she'd spend painting the pain away, and she still did so know.

"You know, causing yourself pain won't get rid of the memories," her old cell mate crosses his arms. "So there's no need."

"Do you not know anything? Do you have a malfunction that keeps you from understanding any logic?!" Inkblood roars before whipping out her treasured knife and cutting her protoform just to spite the male.

"ARE YOU DAFT?! STOP DOING THIS TO YOURSELF!" he screams.

"I must be, considering the fact that I still keep doing so," Inkblood whispers creepily calm before stabbing the male in the spark. "Enjoy your torture..."


End file.
